"We ain't got shit for you, Liz."

The United States Postal Service delivered a letter from Boston University to my parent's house last Saturday morning. Like I do, I took my sweet-ass time opening the letter; I was almost certain of the contents. As I had expected, on pretentiously thick paper, complete with a raised seal, was printed a brief letter explaining that the University is unable to offer me any scholarships or grants at this time. The letter carefully mentioned that this was not a reflection of my academic success, nor of my intelligence.

The letter further explained that they would be happy to loan me, at a rate of low interest, $3,500 a year towards my tuition.
"Aw, geez, guys, thanks for the one Bio textbook!" Way to make a dent in a 50 thou a year.
By which I of course meant, "Oh yeah? Really?! Well fuck you too, Boston University. Fuck. You."
Not only can they keep their Boston Blood Money, but I've got a couple suggestions about where they can store it. AND I'll throw in a couple of fingers. Middle of each hand, raised high. That's how fucking generous I am.

Bastards. Bostards.



So, uh, see you guys around Ypsi.
I guess.